


Of Knowledge and of Memories

by Wolvesowl



Category: Bleach
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, No details given but major events of each arc are talked about, SO, Theres your warning, blood mention, character introspection, including the anime and the manga, like seriously there’s references to the whole series, minor spoilers?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolvesowl/pseuds/Wolvesowl
Summary: Yamamoto Genryūsai knew a great many things, for he had seen and experienced and learned much in his many years of life.The most important thing he knew, he came to know in death.





	Of Knowledge and of Memories

Yamamoto knew his duty. He was a captain, the Soutaicho of the Gotei 13. He lead his captains, stood proud over his Shinigami. He cared for all the captains that came to serve under him, over the centuries. He mourned them when they fell in battle, but he knew his duty. So even when his heart would ache over the loss of yet another bright soul, he forced himself to appoint another in their place. He had watched his captains and his Shinigami grow, had watched the Gotei become stronger with the creation of the Academy. But even that had been an act of duty, an effort to create a place where more bright souls could come and train and become stronger, to add their strength to the Gotei.

Yamamoto knew pride, as well. He felt in in the accomplishments of his captains. He felt it when they grew stronger, when they took their places and donned the white haori. His greatest pride was in his children, in Shunsui and Juushiro. The bright souls who had been some of the first to enter into his academy. His captains. His students. His sons. He had felt pride when they achieved their Shikai, and later their Bankai, when they became the first Shinigami is existence to wield dual zanpakto. He’d felt pride when they’d risen the ranks and eventually taken their places as captains of the Gotei. He still felt pride in them both, for he knew that one day, when his time as Soutaicho inevitably came to an end, it would be one of them who would take his place. Juushiro, if the boy’s health did not get in the way. Shunsui, if he could begin to take things more seriously. He knew pride, for it swelled within his chest with each day as he watched his Gotei grow.

Yamamoto knew loss, he knew grief. He felt it with every captain’s death, felt it when Ginrei Kuchiki, his old, dear friend fell to enemies in battle. Felt it when Kaien Shiba, rising star and beloved lieutenant, fell to a Hollow and died on the blade of one of his own. He felt it when Byakuya Kuchiki was forced to grow too soon, when the free-spirited, bright, happy young boy fell prey to the cold cruelty of nobility and lost himself to his pride. He felt it when Isshin Shiba was lost in battle, not even a body left behind to give a proper burial. He knew it when Sasikabe Chojiro, his lieutenant, his most trusted companion and one he had come to call a friend, whom he viewed as another of his beloved sons, fell as the first casualty of many to the Quincy.

Yamamoto knew betrayal. He knew it in the actions of Kōga Kuchiki, and could only feel regret as the once bright soul descended to darkness. He knew it in many of his own actions, when he had been forced to turn his back to his own Shinigami to follow the laws of this world. He knew it in the Central 46, when their rulings forced him to take actions against those he had sworn to protect and lead. He knew it in Tōsen, and Ichimaru, and Aizen, who had turned their backs on their home and gone against every vow they had ever made. 

Yamamoto knew regret. He knew it in the deep, piercing pain when he took a young, white-haired prodigy from the academy, only a few years a true Shinigami, and pushed the boy into the position of captain. He knew it when he watched that child push down and hide away his very nature, when he forced a soul so young to take on far too much responsibility, so much that it stifled him and left his emotional growth halted as he was forced to mature far beyond his years. He knew it when seven of his best, of his captains and his lieutenants, fell to the hollow corruption and he was forced to bow to the Central 46 and order their deaths. He felt it when he was forced to exile one of the brightest minds the Seireitei had ever known, and he felt it when Shihoin followed her beloved friend. He lost 9 of his best that day, 10 including the Kidō Corps Captain. He regretted not digging deeper, not questioning why a man with Urahara’s sense of loyalty would turn against dear friends. He knew it in the actions he had taken against the Quincy, for though he knew they were threatening the balance, he wished it could have all been solved more peacefully, with less bloodshed and without a massacre. He felt it when they returned for vengeance, when his Shinigami were slain and his captains felled. He knew it in the Kurosaki boy, knew it when he took a young, bright human soul and forced him into a weapon, into a warrior for Soul Society to use as needed.

Yamamoto knew fear. He knew it when Aizen almost won, when Karakura almost fell and the Oken was almost created. He knew it with the first strike in the Quincy invasion, knew it when countless soldiers were slaughtered, when the Seireitei, their home, their sanctuary, was destroyed. He knew it when his captains began to lose their Bankai, when the Quincy gained the upper hand and it appeared that Soul Society would be lost, that the balance would tip and the worlds would be destroyed, that he would have failed his Shinigami, failed his captains, failed in his sworn duty as Soutaicho.

Yamamoto knew pain. He knew it in the first war, when his face was struck and scarred. He knew it in the countless battles that came after. He knew it, deep and painful in his chest, whenever he watched Juushiro fall to his illness. He knew it when he watched his captains fall first to the Arrancar, then to the Quincy. He knew it when he watched his son in all but blood fall to a hollow to a Hollow with the appearance of a child, blood on his chest, and pain in his emerald eyes. He knew it with Aizen, when he gave his arm in a forbidden Kido to save his captains and the innocent human souls he was duty-bound to protect. He knew it now, with the Quincy, as he lay wounded and dying at the feet of their King, his blood spilling from his body and his powers too weakened to fight further.

Yamamoto knew hope. He had known it when the KurosKi boy agreed to aid them after Aizen’s betrayal. He knew it when he watched the boy-turned-warrior face the traitor on the battle field. He knew it when Aizen was sealed, and the worlds returned to their peace. He knew it in his captains who had regained their Bankai after losing them to the Quincy. He knew it in young Hitsugaya, the child prodigy who he had forced to grow too fast, as the boy captain unlocked a new level of power never before seen. He knew it as he felt, as he saw Kurosaki take to the battlefield to fend of the Quincy King.

Yamamoto knew war, for he had seen it countless times over his long years. With the Quincy the first time. With the Bounts. With Shusuke Amagai, who had manipulated the nobility, and who he had wronged so many years before. With their own Zanpakto, who had been turned against them by a blade whose Master had cast him aside. With Kageroza Inaba and his reigai. With the Quincy, now, a second time over.

Yamamoto knew peace. Knew it in the millennia that had followed the first Quincy war. Knew it in the quiet nights without bloodshed. Knew it in the first flowers of spring, and the first snow of winter. Knew it in the quiet friendship and camaraderie he observed between his captains. In the bonds of friendship and love formed by his Shinigami. Knew it in the warmth of Ryujin Jakka, in the great fire spirit’s scorching heat and comforting presence. Knew it in Sasikabe, in his lieutenant’s utter devotion and loyalty. 

And now, as the life faded from his body, as his powers grew weaker and weaker and his vision grayed at the edges, Yamamoto knew comfort. He knew it in the surety that Kurosaki would win. That the worlds would be saved, that balance would be restored. That the Seireitei would rebuild, stronger, and better than ever before, with a new Soutaicho to lead a new era. That though his time was drawing to a close, the worlds would continue on. His captains, his Shinigami, would live on and recover, and would create a new Seireitei under new leadership and ideals. That though many would grieve his death, happiness would be known again, and the suffering would come to an end. 

And so, as the great Soutaicho, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni drew his last breath, he died without fear for the future, died with contentment settling in his heart, for he knew that while the sun was setting on his time, it would rise again on a new, better era.

Yamamoto had only one regret, and it was that he would never be able to see it.  


**Author's Note:**

> So,there was that. Just thought I’d write this to give some love to old man Yama! And to challenge myself. 
> 
> But tell my what you think, my friends! Feedback is the sustenance of my writer’s soul!


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